


The Night After

by BeanWritesStuff



Series: Burning Bridges, Building Confidence [7]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adelaide is Trying Her Best, Aftermath of Violence, Author Spent Far Too Much Time Doing Research, Both on the Legal and Medical Aspects, Disabled Character, Gen, OC-centric, One Shot, Side Story, salt fic, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 18:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21150386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeanWritesStuff/pseuds/BeanWritesStuff
Summary: The thoughts of Adelaide Dupain following the events of the last part of chapter six in the story "Burning Bridges, Building Confidence," and where she plans to go from there.(AKA: A parent in Miraculous isn't as absentee as canon wants all parents to be.)





	The Night After

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to write this not only to provide some context on some of the non-superhero aspects of the story, but to also develop some previously introduced characters (Adelaide in particular) and shine a bit more backstory on what got Cole into Paris. (Also Cole is really out of it in this due to medication, so we're not going to get much of her.)
> 
> Also I wanted to write some fluff, sue me. (Except don't bc I'm a broke college student.)
> 
> Thanks to @bigcheeseyboi on Tumblr for reading through this and listening to me make weird headcanons a lot of the time.

Adelaide “Addie” Dupain liked to think of herself as a sensible woman; she was capable enough as the CEO of one of the largest cybersecurity firms in Europe and several years as their top lawyer prior to that. And she hoped she was able to add “good mother” to that list. 

“Motherfucker,” She hissed, slamming the phone back into its cradle, immediately regretting doing so when her daughter jumps over on the couch. Adelaide padded across the hardwood floor, picking up her mug of tea as she did. She sat down next to her curled up daughter, sighing. “Sorry about that.”

Collette made a slow nod, wincing and shutting her eye. Adelaide took the moment to study her daughter. Dr. Ermittenburg had given her some medication, enough to block the pain but not enough to knock her out completely. It left the teenager in a haze. Her eye was re-bandaged, the medical cloth wrapping around her head and under her bangs. Her skin was papery white in the low light Adelaide had set the living room to in an attempt to limit the possibility of sensory overload. 

Dottie was curled up on Cole, her head lying just under the girl’s chin, observing her human and occasionally giving the brunette’s cheek a lick in comfort. Cole’s arms were curled around the puppy, the weight grounding her in reality. 

“We’re going to take care of this,” Adelaide stated, more to herself than her daughter. She was already mentally drawing up lists of charges and lawsuits she’d direct her lawyers to start tomorrow. The CEO was glad she still remembered her knowledge from her years in their shoes. 

The first lawsuit would be an aggravated assault charge on one Alya Cesaire, along with the possible charges of harassment, slander, cyberbullying, attempted robbery, and conspiracy to commit crime. If everything went smoothly, Adelaide could get her charged with a hate crime due to her insistence of Collette faking her disability.

The second would be served to Lila Rossi on similar charges, along with the added hate crimes on the basis of sexuality, race, and disability. Maybe if her niece Marinette would be willing to part with some contact info, she’d get Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and several others in on the charges of slander, defamation, and fraud. On that thought she could probably get the Italian on truancy charges too, maybe nail the mother with her own set of charges as well. 

The (technically) fourth lawsuit she’d proudly and viciously serve to Caline Bustier like a knife to the chest. Child abuse on the grounds of emotional abuse towards Marinette and the denial of medical aid to Collette. She could probably get the teacher slammed with civil charges on her as well, but right now she focused on criminal court. 

The fifth would be served to Francoise Dupont on grounds of failure to stop the harassment and delinquency of their students. That school thrived on the idea of laissez faire discipline (read: being lazy and not doing jackshit unless the “victim” was rich) and the hopes that parents were too absent in their children’s lives to care. Damocles only “helped” once he realized he was in a tight spot for himself and had let students and faculty go unchecked for far too long. And their failure to be proactive in akuma prevention showcased just that. 

If she was lucky, she’d serve her final charge to the Agreste family. Not only on the patriarch for child neglect and abuse, but also on the son for willingly aiding in the harassment and abuse of his classmates even if he knew the basis of the “motives” were false. No court would ever agree with them that his “sheltered upbringing” would justify his thinking. Especially not with Hawkmoth on the loose.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by her daughter tapping her leg with her foot. 

“I’ve got….e’idence,” Cole slurred, her mind still fighting the drugs. “Re’ordings, video, stuff like tha’.” 

Were this any other situation, Adelaide would be over the moon about how much her daughter took after her. The woman had long since taken to recording meetings and phone calls (all legal of course), not only for notes but as evidence should anything come up. She’d even had to use it a few times.

“That’s nice sweetie,” She said. “But right now you should focus on healing. I’ll take care of the legal stuff. Once the drugs wear off and you heal up a bit I’ll gladly let you help.” Cole looked upset for a moment, shrinking into her state championship baseball hoodie and inhaling the scent of the detergent. Adelaide smiled, remembering Collette as a six-year-old doing the same thing. She put a hand on the girl’s knee to get her attention, “Now, do you want to order some take out? Or do you want some cheesy bread? You still like cheesy bread?” 

At Cole’s dazed nod Adelaide smiled. She got up and went to the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients. Cole, not letting Dottie down, walked over. She was swaying on her feet a little, but hopped up on the counter after checking her depth perception.

“Some things never change,” Adelaide laughed. “Fifteen years old and you still sit on the counters at every opportunity.”

“Wouldn’t be our Letta if she didn’t,” H.P. said as he came into the kitchen. He gently ruffled Cole’s hair on her left side before turning to rinse out his coffee mug in the sink. Dottie squirmed to be let down, to which Cole obliged. The puppy trotted over to her water bowl to drink. H.P. turned to Adelaide as she rolled out the dough. “Did you get a hold of that ambassador?”

“No,” Adelaide growled. “But I’m having the lawyers drawing up lawsuits against her, the Cesaire girl, and the school tomorrow. The teacher and the liar too.”

“Good, maybe see if Tom and Sabine are going to press charges on Marinette’s behalf.”

Cole looked between the two, still mentally far off. In her hood, she felt Trixx’s paw on the back of her neck, but it felt far off in the haze. She should probably say something, but the words died before they even got to her throat.

“So Letta.” She fell back to reality as she turned to her grandfather. “Tell us a bit more about your friends. The one’s you’ve been hanging out with.”

Cole gave no response, seemingly falling more into the influence of the pain medication, likely compounded by the lingering effects of her panic attack. H.P. caught a glimpse of Trixx peeking out of the depths of Cole’s hood, The kwami looked worried for his chosen, but ducked out of sight just as Adelaide turned to her daughter.

“Collette, do you want extra cheese on yours?” Cole blinked, surfacing for a moment, and nodded. She held up the package of shredded Parmesan and gave it a shake. Adelaide gave a small smile. She recalled H.P. telling her of the few other times her daughter had had a panic attack. It wasn’t true for all cases, but the old detective had found that if she was answering questions, even non verbally, she’d generally be okay. 

Adelaide took the package from her daughter and spread the cheese across the dough. The oven beeped to signal it was at temperature. She put the uncooked dough into the oven and set the timer. The brunette CEO turned back to her daughter, still sitting on the counter. 

God she’d missed so much of her daughter’s life. The guilt sat heavy in her stomach. While many would blame the horrible American justice system, Adelaide couldn’t help but feel guilty. Nine years without seeing her daughter in person, only “seeing” her in pictures and a handful of video calls, only to get the call one night that she was finally getting custody of her daughter, minus one eye. 

She remembered that night like one would remember an ice pick to the skull. Receiving a call in the early hours of the morning that her daughter was in the ICU and her ex-husband was being brought in on a laundry list of charges. Being told Collette’s fate was unclear, that they’d done everything they could and that it’d be up to her to pull through. Calling her ex-father-in-law and staying on video call discussing semantics until Collette had woken up. Watching her daughter struggle not to cry when she was told they couldn’t save her eye, rendering her half blind.

Adelaide remembered when her daughter had fallen asleep not long after, and the woman allowed herself to sob and wail for what felt like forever. She’d only been pulled out of it when her little brother had shown up with his wife. Apparently she’d tapped his contact on accident and all they’d heard was horrid sobbing. They’d left their daughter a note (even with Marinette unlikely to be awake) and rushed right over to comfort her. 

It’d gotten bad, and Adelaide remembered Ladybug coming by to check on her and to purify an akuma that’d been headed toward her. 

The tapping on her shoulder brought her back to the present, turning to see Cole holding Dottie right next to Adelaide’s face, the puppy’s paw on her shoulder. Seeing the opportunity, the puppy began to energetically lick Adelaide’s face. The mother sputtered and laughed, making half-hearted attempts to dissuade the puppy.

Cole laughed, even if it was barely audible and it looked more like she was having chest spasms. Adelaide finally got Dottie to calm down, scratching behind the puppy’s ears with her manicured nails. Tired green eyes looked to her daughter, enjoying the small smile she had on her face. 

“So,” Adelaide asked, brushing a lock of hair behind her daughter’s left ear. “Have you decided on a color?”

It was a topic that’d come up the further away from the incident they got. Cole was less than a week away from being healed enough for a glass eye, and she’d been rather excited for it. It only served to piss Adelaide off more that those brats had messed that up for her daughter, pushing it off another six weeks at least. Cole didn’t seem too affected, though that may have been due to the drugs. Instead she smiled dopily,

“Can’t decide,” She pulled Dottie back close to her. “Purple would be cool, bu’ it’d clash with my other eye. A nice orange-amber would be cool too. Maybe a gold? I ‘unno.”

The oven timer beeped, prompting Adelaide to go over and grab oven mitts to pull the food out. She couldn’t help but grin as she heard the girl-puppy duo behind her whine at the smell. 

A few hours later, she sat with H.P. asleep in the recliner, and Collette asleep against her with Dottie asleep curled up against her. The TV was playing the idle screen to  _ Super Smash Bros.  _ since Collette had wanted to try and teach her and H.P. how to play. Adelaide was close to nodding off, gently running her hands through hair. 

It wasn’t perfect, but as Adelaide found very few things she’d change. She cooed at her daughter, pressing a kiss to the teen’s fluffy hair. Her phone, face up and silenced, lit up. Adelaide grabbed it and checked the home screen. Backed by a picture of Collette at the state championships, sent to her by H.P. of course, was a single message,

_ Charges are about to be filed. Officers will arrive tomorrow to take statements. _

Adelaide sent a quick reply before nodding off with a smile. Something was wrong in the city of Paris. But if there was anything Adelaide had learned, it was that a knife could easily cut away the rot.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, leave a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed.
> 
> Also I had the thought to sort of "face claim" for my OCs, just to get a better picture until I can finish their portraits.
> 
> For Adelaide, think Gwyneth Paltrow as Pepper Potts, as that was the sort of energy I hoped to give her character. The only real differences would be her hair is brown like Tom's and green eyes.
> 
> For Grandpa Sullivan, I'd have to say he's like if you mixed Harrison Ford with David McCallum, definitely a grandpa, but also keeping with the idea that he still has this old detective vibe to him. Similar to the old noir style movies but set in the 50s.
> 
> Collette was a bit tough. I haven't decided on her yet. But I have her sketch done so she'll probably be up soon.


End file.
